Post by EmmaWoods007 on Jan 5, 2024 19:07:34 GMT
AILEE GARRETT VS. ARIANNA SOLOMON
AILEE GARRETT
ARIANNA SOLOMON
…With baited breath, the FAWNatics waited as the Official counted…
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE…
…and they cheered as Ailee Garrett threw her arm up at the very last second, just barely staying in the contest.
Arianna, by comparison, was significantly less happy than the crowd was, and she turned the entirety of her petulance, which was a considerable amount, directly at the man in black and white.
“What the hell?” she despaired, utterly aghast as she stood up quickly to her feet. “Are you slow or just a simpleton?” she demanded to know, all but stamping her foot in protest. “That was three!” she demonstrated by sharply showing him the correct number of digits. “Solomon’s get three!!”
“Solomons get the same count as everyone else,” the Official defended himself, holding up his own palms placentally. “Like it or leave it.”
Arianna fumed, her glower revealing the eternal enmity she now possessed for the man who clearly didn’t know better and, with a pronounced tut and exasperated shake her head, she turned her attention back to her opponent. With visible disdain, she began to peel the other blonde off the deck…
…and then YELPED in abject horror as Garrett, not someone to be safely ignored, hooked Solomon both by her shoulders and behind the knee before throwing herself backwards. Momentum was a bytch when utilised against you and, with a prolonged cry, Arianna was rapidly flipped, tucked, rolled and found her shoulders pinned against the canvas whilst she was being compressed into the tightest of balls.
The Official was immediately on it, dropping to the canvas to count…
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE…
…and Solomon just barely managed to kick out, spitting and cursing whilst the FAWNatics sighed in disappointment.
“You dare?” Arianna exclaimed, returning to her feet rapidly and charging.
“Oh yeah,” Arianna shot back, deftly catching Solomon head on and, once again using momentum as her ally, scooped her adversary clean off her feet, pivoted her upside down, and then SLAMMED her straight back down into the canvas!! “I dare.”
Arianna let out a shout as her spine connected with the plywood, her back giving way more than the ring as she jerked sharply back up to sitting, grimacing as she struggled to breath. She did not, however, remain where she was for long, well versed in the better part of valour as she quickly returned to her side and began rolling. Surprisingly fast when she was pegging it, Solomon made it to the ropes almost before Garrett had a chance to react, Arianna dropping herself out of the ring over the edge of the apron.
Irritated beyond words, she began to pace back and forth, dismissively waving off the crowds heckles as she ruminated on how the Official was clearly determined to screw her over.
She looked back to the ring…
…Just in time to see Ailee sailing out of it, the other blonde diving between the ring ropes in a sublime suicide dive!!
The crowd popped as they collided, both young women tumbling to the barely padded concrete and Arianna, her eyes still wide in surprise, received the worst of it, knocked hurtling backwards into the commentary table. To her credit, even winded and in pain, she still managed to drag herself away, slinking as fast as she could on her hands and knees as she fidgeted with her attire, apparently only now concerned with how much boob she was displaying.
Ailee quickly caught up with her and, as she had bad memories about being outside the ring from earlier in the week, she was keen to get her opponent back into the squared circle where they could settle this properly.
“Come on then,” the Brit prompted, beginning to drag the sandbagging American towards the apron. “Let’s not leave the people wait…”
Solomon suddenly reared back after wiping her hand across her mouth and then, to the indignation of those who could see clearly in the front row, sprayed a great cloud of blinding mist out from between her lips!!
Garrett reeled away, crying out in both surprise and more than a little pain as her eyes felt like they were burning, the statuesque blonde covering her features as she stumbled.
Looking equal parts euphoric and positively ghoulish, a much happier Arianna was on her in an instant, booting the opposite blonde in her crimson clad tunny and folding her sharply forwards. Not wasting a second, she pulled Ailee forwards and stuffed the young woman’s head between her thighs, hooking both of her arms in short order and then, before anyone could protest, dropped to her knees and NAILED her foes features into the barely padded concrete!!
The Last Word of Solomon
www.youtube.com/watch?v=34UOY9Tjejo
Following a sharp spasm that ran the full length of her long stems, Garrett fell completely still, laid out outside the ring as the spectators both grew concerned and cried out protests in turn.
Arianna, on the other hand, was looking as pleased as could be, positively preening before the Official inside the ring counted…
“EIGHT!”
…and, after dismissively dusting off her hands on her slack opponents back, immediately returned to her footing and dived beneath the bottom rope, returning inside the squared circle just before the man in black and white counted…
“TEN!!”
…confirming that Solomon had won by Count Out.
As victories went, it was not the most glamourous way to win the match, and the crowd certainly never liked it, but Arianna couldn’t care less, arms outstretched and grinning in utterly self-indulgent manner, parading the four corners of the ring as though she had just won FAWNmania.
The crowd serenaded her with boos, but she didn’t care. As far as either of the Solomon Sisters were concerned, nights like this were a long time in coming and, being as the whole damn industry was theirs by genetic right, all of this was her party, and she would gloat if she wants to…
ALEXIS ATLANTIC VS. AMAYA MURAKAMI
ALEXIS ATLANTIC
AMAYA MURAKAMI
…Even ensnared for only a smattering of seconds, Alexis Atlantic was shocked to discover just how swiftly she was flagging, her adversary for the evenings infamous experience in all forms of constriction proving to be very much true. She irked out a grunt as Amaya Murakami fully cemented her Sleeperhold, cutting off both the flow of oxygen to the Babe of Brawls grey matter and the young woman was weak at the knees in barely a few heartbeats.
Amaya adjusted her grip just a little more and Alexis stiffened all at once before her posture slackened even further, Murakami rocking her slowly from left to right to wring out a few more precious ounces of stamina, riding out the other young woman’s futile efforts to pry her arm free. To make one final point, she twisted on her hold just a little further than she should, Atlantic’s chest hiking in surprise and a great deal of distress as the base of her neck creaked alarmingly.
“Tap or snap,” Amaya whispered coldly in the blonde’s ear. “Tap. Or. Snap.”
“SEVEN!!” the Official called from inside the ring, opting to quicken his pace being as he didn’t at all like where this was going.
Ruefully, Murakami was reminded that all such chilling threats were utterly baseless beyond feeding a vindictive streek, the duo of Grapplers currently positioned outside the squared circle. Not wanting tonight’s affair to end so anticlimactically, she conceded to settle the contest within more glorious pastures. With Alexis practically swaying in her grasp, she reluctantly released her Sleeperhold and all but bodily tossed the sleeker athlete against the apron, shoving her up against the hardest part of the ring before jostling her up onto it.
So prompted, the Miniature Marine rolled beneath the bottom rope and kept going for a few feet beyond flopping out in a dazed puddle, blinking slowly as she lay across her front. By the time Murakami had followed her in, the flag attired beauty was only just beginning to push her way up onto her hands and knees, shaking her head slowly before…
…Amaya STOMPED on her fingers, an uncharacteristic (yet understandable) yelp escaping from her torso as she snatched her wounded digits close to her chest. She grimaced even more as Murakami, unrelenting, snatched her by the hair and began to jerk her upwards…
…and Atlantic NAILED her with a gorgeous, patented (and shared with her sibling) All-American Uppercut, tensed bicep connecting flush beneath her adversaries unprotected chin, the Little Lioness roaring as she struck.
In answer the crowd cheered, more than happy to watch Amaya’s startled noggin rocked backwards on her shoulders, the Asian blurry eyed for a second and stumbling backwards in a daze.
Alexis, unfortunately, didn’t look much better, the surge of adrenaline seemingly as swift to drain back out of her petitely packaged, powerfully built body as it had arrived. The Babe of Brawl staggered at the same time as her opponent and, to the disappointment of those watching, it was Murakami who recovered first.
Steely eyed and ruthless she advanced, quickly bearing down on Atlantic…
…and caught flat footed as the Babe of Brawl dropped rapidly to the deck, snapping her athletic stems tight about her adversaries and tripping the other young woman face first to the deck. Amaya hit the canvas hard with a shocked grunt of air and, before she could recover, the flag attired blonde was on her.
Once again, the arena was in full spirits, and they cheered even more so as, with expert efficiency, Atlantic seized one of her opponents’ legs, stood tall and, with a flourish, applied a hellacious, crowd-pleasing Ankle Lock!!
Ankle Lock: @0:14
www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4poYwhtBgw
Murakami yowled before clamping down on that unseeingly display of weakness as her whole body stiffened and jolted in a sudden state of blinding agony. She hissed and clenched her fists, resisting the urge to slap them down on the canvas in her misery.
Adjusting her footing, Alexis bore down on her hold all the more, the blonde as unrelenting as she was precise in the application of pressure.
“Tap or snap,” she growled down at Amaya, twisting, turning and rotating her opponents ensnared stem. “Tap.. Or. Snap!”
“You wouldn’t!” Murakami hissed threw clenched teeth, seething and crippled in almost every way, shaking her head in denial.
“You think?” Atlantic braced herself, tone low and level in warning. “I’m a Marine,” she reminded, applying just a little more, devastating torque for effect.
“I’ve done far worse.”
Amaya slapped her palm against the mat furiously, signalling to the Official and everyone watching that she submitted, the man in black and white calling for the bell to confirm as the crowd popped.
Alexis, for just a moment, considered not letting go before her better nature won out and dropped her adversaries tortured limb, leaving her to roll away unmolested to lick to her wounds and fight another day.
Now left to her own devices, and with her theme music erupting from the loud speakers, Atlantic beat her right fist against her chest and shouted….
“STAND UP!!”
….and her most loyal followers, of which there were many cried back…
“RECOGNISE!!”
…to which replied with her arms spread open wide…
“Damn right.”
[/U]ANNABELLE DARK VS. ALEJANDRA FERNANDEZ[/U][/B]
ANNABELLE DARK
ALEJANDRA FERNANDEZ
…For Annabelle Dark, the learning curve of the Big Leagues, as the petitely packaged Brit was quickly coming to realise, was less of a hill and more like a great big f*cking cliff face!
As weary as she could be, the Midnight Maiden put up little protest as she was muscled up to sitting on the top turnbuckle, chin tucked meekly towards her chest as her sleek physique glistened with a sheen of perspiration. She did manage to place her right palm on Alejandra’s rigid shoulder as her opponent for the evening began climbing the ropes in front of her, but there appeared to be little intent behind the gesture.
The Prototype, on the other hand, looked as though she could still go another ten rounds, clearly fired up from her loss on Wednesday, Fernandez taking out her cold fury on the youngest of the Darks. Grabbing a firm hold of the smaller young woman’s navy singlet about her hips, she also prepared to forcibly yank her head forwards into a Front Headlock…
…Only for Annabelle to shockingly lean forwards, catching damn near everyone in the arena off guard, and planted her lips deep against the Mexican Maulers. It was as passionate as any kiss had been, the Princess of New Storms holding nothing back until Fernandez, who had not flinched from the unexpected invasion, returned it ten-fold, bearing down on the lip lock as if it were a match all of its own.
Annabelle gave as good as she got but, all too soon, her offensive began crumbling, her pert chest hiking and moans becoming audible to those sitting in the front rows. Conceding ground, Dark leant her head back slowly, the Malevolent Machine now leaning over the Lightning Reaper until finally, with both needing air, they broke apart.
The Midnight Maiden, even more flustered than before, gasped and trembled just a little, her pale complexion becoming rosy as Alejandra scowled down on her grimly. Annabelle tipped her chin back, a final surrender and Alejandra…
…found a thumb JABBED into her eye for her troubles!!
She howled, the Prototype clutching her blinded peeper as she stumbled down from the turnbuckles and stumbled away, cursing with many a low growl as the FAWNatics, watching on, were divided in their collective response. Some cheered, others didn’t, and the rest were still dumbfounded by the snogging match that they had just witnessed.
Annabelle, now sitting pretty and more than a little smug with herself, shrugged to those in the audience who cried foul and, without a hint of remorse, waited for just the right moment…
…which she spotted as soon as Fernandez turned her back on her.
Marshalling what remained of her reserves, the Lightning Reaper took flight, leaping from her perch and taking to the air. She landed square and true across Alejandra’s back, clinging to her like a spider monkey and, with nary a moment’s hesitation, wrapped her athletic legs about her opponent’s rock-solid midriff and began to squeeeeeeze, ripping a great gasp of escaping air from her opponent.
It was a gasp, however, that was cut short as, in conjunction with the Body Scissors, Annabelle wrapped her right arm about the Mexican’s neck and locked in TIGHT a stiff sleeper, her opponent stiffening and swaying as the Brit conspired to tighten her duality of constrictions even further.
“That was uncalled for, I know,” Dark cooed an apology into Alejandra’s ear as she clung as closely as she could. “How about we say you throw in the towel now,” she continued after her not exactly sincere apology, “and I promise to make it up to you. I bet you love butt stu…”
She didn’t get to finish her offer, not as Fernandez, with a low and heavy growl, immediately back peddled in reverse, almost literally running blind and still managing to SLAM her unwanted passenger spine first into the turnbuckles!!
Dark released a heavy GRUNT as she was violently compressed between her opponents far more powerful body and the barely yielding pads, but she did not let go.
Alejandra, however, had the bit between her teeth, even as Annabelle tightened her gams about her hips, constricting and grinding them for all it was worth. Instead, she stumbled forwards and, bracing herself, she THREW herself backwards a second time.
Again, Dark grunted, rocked from head to toe and, this time, her grip did slacken.
Fernandez, smelling blood in the water, repeated the collision for a third time, and Annabelle could hold on no longer, gutted, breathless and the last of her stamina abandoning her, she let go and slumped against the pads.
She would have stayed there as well had Fernandez not possessed other ideas, the Malevolent Machine grabbing hold of her opponent’s now slack arms and dragged her up and over until the young Brit lay slumped, trim tummy first, over her right shoulder. Palming both the back of the brunette’s neck and her hips to hold her cargo steady, Alejandra inhaled a deep breath and charged forwards. Upon reaching the middle of the ring, she slung the limp limbed Annabelle forwards and SLAMMED her into the deck with one of the most brutal Running Powerslams in wrestling!!
GRINGA KILLER: @0:20
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mnFRqS6fWk
Ring rattling, Annabelle splayed out in a depleted, quivering heap, one knee pointed heavenwards whilst the rest of her limbs twitched with the barest signs of life.
Alejandra was on her immediately, hooking that inviting leg and pinning the sleeker grappler to the canvas, the Official joining them to count…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
…bringing the match to an end and confirming Fernandez’s victory.
Rising to her feet quickly, she grabbed Annabelle by her hair and bullied the Midnight Maiden up onto her knees, the smaller brunette barely even conscious and gazing down the hard camera with a blank expression. Fernandez, on the other hand, with the softly groaning spoils of victory clutched in her right fist, glared daggers towards all those who would be watching back stage, a handful in particular.
They year had only just begun, but she was only getting started…
ALISON ATLANTIC VS. ANGELICA KAISER
ALISON ATLANTIC
ANGELICA KAISER
…Breathless, Alison chided herself inwardly for her seeming inability to match the simply overwhelming power possessed by Angelica Kaiser, not even at the second time of asking. A good three inches shorter than the Austrian, the Lean Marine was popped up onto her tip toes as the Crimson Goddess methodically sought to squeeze the very last of the life out of her by way of Bearhug, the smaller blonde’s palms pressed impotently against her adversaries’ shoulders.
Angelica flexed and Alison groaned, still valiantly struggling for release yet finding little remaining strength to still do so. Kaiser tightened her coils again, jostling the flag attired beauty, ever so slowly grinding her into submission in the middle of the ring, right where the duo of athletes had first locked horns tonight.
“The Patriot Princess?” Kaiser questioned with an air of wry amusement, squeezing, constricting and slowly rolling her arms up and down the Babe of Battle’s spine in turn, working her over with ever greater force. “Still, I am not impressed.”
“Impressed?” Alison managed to push out from between her lips, stiffening her posture for what was surely to be one last effort, furrowing her brow in proud indignation. With a flare up of intense dander of the Babyface variety, she struggled to inhale a deep breath and, steeling her resolve, she then voluntarily popped her athletic stems clean up off the canvas, wrapping those long legs about a surprised Angelica’s hips.
“I’ll give you a reason to be impressed!”
“An unexpected strategy,” Kaiser grinned, an expression that would be charming had the Crimson Goddess not proven to be so cold blooded. “Not unwelcome,” she purred, compressing Atlantic even tighter up against her, her pelvis thrust up between Alison’s voluntarily open thighs. “But fruitl…”
Amusement traded places with shock on the Austrian’s expression as, with her own features the picture of determination, Atlantic SNAPPED her encircling stems shut with sudden and severe pressure, firm thighs flexing with unexpected power as she fought to counteract her adversaries Bearhug with a Body Scissors of their own!!
Both young women gasped and constricted, soon as tightly pressed up against one another as they could possibly be, chins perched on each other’s shoulders as they grimaced and groaned. Both flexed, both squeezed, both fought for dominance as their warm, nubile young bodies writhed with terse, determined spasms, the temperature in the arena rising.
Neither Athlete were willing to let go, and no-one could look away, the Gladiatrix Photographers on hand to ensure the moment was captured for prosperity.
It was, however, perhaps inevitable that Alison would be the first to slacken, already on the back foot before the joust had begun. For all her fierce pride added fuel to her fire, her grunts were the first to become moans, her palms finally slipping free from Kaiser’s rigid shoulders to sway idly by her thighs.
Feeling the end was near, an emboldened (and a little relieved) Angelica doubled down on her own embrace and, with the immediate, colossal increase in pressure about her midriff, Atlantic’s head rolled dejectedly backwards on her slumped shoulders, a long, mournful groooooooan slipping free from her torso.
With one final, sharp jostle, Alison’s hips popped back open and her long legs, drained of all stamina, slipped back down until her toes tapped the canvas.
Angelica let her go, but only long enough to spin the pliant Patriot Princess one eighty on the spot and reapplying her embrace, this time a Bearhug of the Belly to Back variety.
Atlantic stiffened for a second before again falling slack, dangling in her opponent’s stronger arms and swaying gently from left to right, her spirit from the night having finally left her.
The Official, having seen enough, moved in to check of the sleeker blonde’s well-being, slowly lifting the flaccid arm of the Lean Marine before letting it drop…
ONCE!
TWICE!!
THRICE!!!
…and called for the bell, confirming Angelica’s victory by knockout.
Kaiser, revelling in her superiority, didn’t let her go, continuing to squeeze the Babe of Battle who offered nothing in response, her head lolled to one side and her expression blank. Angelica found the hard camera, ensuring that they were both facing it and, with a wry smile, she addressed one person in particular.
“Summer,” she purred, jostling the flaccid frame of her opponent for the night. “Oh Summer Hopkins,” she squeezed her already capitulated foe one final time, summoning the desired, deflated moan to emerge out from her body, a message, both visual and audible, for the EuroAsia Champion.
“I’ll be seeing you.”
AILEE GARRETT
ARIANNA SOLOMON
…With baited breath, the FAWNatics waited as the Official counted…
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE…
…and they cheered as Ailee Garrett threw her arm up at the very last second, just barely staying in the contest.
Arianna, by comparison, was significantly less happy than the crowd was, and she turned the entirety of her petulance, which was a considerable amount, directly at the man in black and white.
“What the hell?” she despaired, utterly aghast as she stood up quickly to her feet. “Are you slow or just a simpleton?” she demanded to know, all but stamping her foot in protest. “That was three!” she demonstrated by sharply showing him the correct number of digits. “Solomon’s get three!!”
“Solomons get the same count as everyone else,” the Official defended himself, holding up his own palms placentally. “Like it or leave it.”
Arianna fumed, her glower revealing the eternal enmity she now possessed for the man who clearly didn’t know better and, with a pronounced tut and exasperated shake her head, she turned her attention back to her opponent. With visible disdain, she began to peel the other blonde off the deck…
…and then YELPED in abject horror as Garrett, not someone to be safely ignored, hooked Solomon both by her shoulders and behind the knee before throwing herself backwards. Momentum was a bytch when utilised against you and, with a prolonged cry, Arianna was rapidly flipped, tucked, rolled and found her shoulders pinned against the canvas whilst she was being compressed into the tightest of balls.
The Official was immediately on it, dropping to the canvas to count…
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE…
…and Solomon just barely managed to kick out, spitting and cursing whilst the FAWNatics sighed in disappointment.
“You dare?” Arianna exclaimed, returning to her feet rapidly and charging.
“Oh yeah,” Arianna shot back, deftly catching Solomon head on and, once again using momentum as her ally, scooped her adversary clean off her feet, pivoted her upside down, and then SLAMMED her straight back down into the canvas!! “I dare.”
Arianna let out a shout as her spine connected with the plywood, her back giving way more than the ring as she jerked sharply back up to sitting, grimacing as she struggled to breath. She did not, however, remain where she was for long, well versed in the better part of valour as she quickly returned to her side and began rolling. Surprisingly fast when she was pegging it, Solomon made it to the ropes almost before Garrett had a chance to react, Arianna dropping herself out of the ring over the edge of the apron.
Irritated beyond words, she began to pace back and forth, dismissively waving off the crowds heckles as she ruminated on how the Official was clearly determined to screw her over.
She looked back to the ring…
…Just in time to see Ailee sailing out of it, the other blonde diving between the ring ropes in a sublime suicide dive!!
The crowd popped as they collided, both young women tumbling to the barely padded concrete and Arianna, her eyes still wide in surprise, received the worst of it, knocked hurtling backwards into the commentary table. To her credit, even winded and in pain, she still managed to drag herself away, slinking as fast as she could on her hands and knees as she fidgeted with her attire, apparently only now concerned with how much boob she was displaying.
Ailee quickly caught up with her and, as she had bad memories about being outside the ring from earlier in the week, she was keen to get her opponent back into the squared circle where they could settle this properly.
“Come on then,” the Brit prompted, beginning to drag the sandbagging American towards the apron. “Let’s not leave the people wait…”
Solomon suddenly reared back after wiping her hand across her mouth and then, to the indignation of those who could see clearly in the front row, sprayed a great cloud of blinding mist out from between her lips!!
Garrett reeled away, crying out in both surprise and more than a little pain as her eyes felt like they were burning, the statuesque blonde covering her features as she stumbled.
Looking equal parts euphoric and positively ghoulish, a much happier Arianna was on her in an instant, booting the opposite blonde in her crimson clad tunny and folding her sharply forwards. Not wasting a second, she pulled Ailee forwards and stuffed the young woman’s head between her thighs, hooking both of her arms in short order and then, before anyone could protest, dropped to her knees and NAILED her foes features into the barely padded concrete!!
The Last Word of Solomon
www.youtube.com/watch?v=34UOY9Tjejo
Following a sharp spasm that ran the full length of her long stems, Garrett fell completely still, laid out outside the ring as the spectators both grew concerned and cried out protests in turn.
Arianna, on the other hand, was looking as pleased as could be, positively preening before the Official inside the ring counted…
“EIGHT!”
…and, after dismissively dusting off her hands on her slack opponents back, immediately returned to her footing and dived beneath the bottom rope, returning inside the squared circle just before the man in black and white counted…
“TEN!!”
…confirming that Solomon had won by Count Out.
As victories went, it was not the most glamourous way to win the match, and the crowd certainly never liked it, but Arianna couldn’t care less, arms outstretched and grinning in utterly self-indulgent manner, parading the four corners of the ring as though she had just won FAWNmania.
The crowd serenaded her with boos, but she didn’t care. As far as either of the Solomon Sisters were concerned, nights like this were a long time in coming and, being as the whole damn industry was theirs by genetic right, all of this was her party, and she would gloat if she wants to…
ALEXIS ATLANTIC VS. AMAYA MURAKAMI
ALEXIS ATLANTIC
AMAYA MURAKAMI
…Even ensnared for only a smattering of seconds, Alexis Atlantic was shocked to discover just how swiftly she was flagging, her adversary for the evenings infamous experience in all forms of constriction proving to be very much true. She irked out a grunt as Amaya Murakami fully cemented her Sleeperhold, cutting off both the flow of oxygen to the Babe of Brawls grey matter and the young woman was weak at the knees in barely a few heartbeats.
Amaya adjusted her grip just a little more and Alexis stiffened all at once before her posture slackened even further, Murakami rocking her slowly from left to right to wring out a few more precious ounces of stamina, riding out the other young woman’s futile efforts to pry her arm free. To make one final point, she twisted on her hold just a little further than she should, Atlantic’s chest hiking in surprise and a great deal of distress as the base of her neck creaked alarmingly.
“Tap or snap,” Amaya whispered coldly in the blonde’s ear. “Tap. Or. Snap.”
“SEVEN!!” the Official called from inside the ring, opting to quicken his pace being as he didn’t at all like where this was going.
Ruefully, Murakami was reminded that all such chilling threats were utterly baseless beyond feeding a vindictive streek, the duo of Grapplers currently positioned outside the squared circle. Not wanting tonight’s affair to end so anticlimactically, she conceded to settle the contest within more glorious pastures. With Alexis practically swaying in her grasp, she reluctantly released her Sleeperhold and all but bodily tossed the sleeker athlete against the apron, shoving her up against the hardest part of the ring before jostling her up onto it.
So prompted, the Miniature Marine rolled beneath the bottom rope and kept going for a few feet beyond flopping out in a dazed puddle, blinking slowly as she lay across her front. By the time Murakami had followed her in, the flag attired beauty was only just beginning to push her way up onto her hands and knees, shaking her head slowly before…
…Amaya STOMPED on her fingers, an uncharacteristic (yet understandable) yelp escaping from her torso as she snatched her wounded digits close to her chest. She grimaced even more as Murakami, unrelenting, snatched her by the hair and began to jerk her upwards…
…and Atlantic NAILED her with a gorgeous, patented (and shared with her sibling) All-American Uppercut, tensed bicep connecting flush beneath her adversaries unprotected chin, the Little Lioness roaring as she struck.
In answer the crowd cheered, more than happy to watch Amaya’s startled noggin rocked backwards on her shoulders, the Asian blurry eyed for a second and stumbling backwards in a daze.
Alexis, unfortunately, didn’t look much better, the surge of adrenaline seemingly as swift to drain back out of her petitely packaged, powerfully built body as it had arrived. The Babe of Brawl staggered at the same time as her opponent and, to the disappointment of those watching, it was Murakami who recovered first.
Steely eyed and ruthless she advanced, quickly bearing down on Atlantic…
…and caught flat footed as the Babe of Brawl dropped rapidly to the deck, snapping her athletic stems tight about her adversaries and tripping the other young woman face first to the deck. Amaya hit the canvas hard with a shocked grunt of air and, before she could recover, the flag attired blonde was on her.
Once again, the arena was in full spirits, and they cheered even more so as, with expert efficiency, Atlantic seized one of her opponents’ legs, stood tall and, with a flourish, applied a hellacious, crowd-pleasing Ankle Lock!!
Ankle Lock: @0:14
www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4poYwhtBgw
Murakami yowled before clamping down on that unseeingly display of weakness as her whole body stiffened and jolted in a sudden state of blinding agony. She hissed and clenched her fists, resisting the urge to slap them down on the canvas in her misery.
Adjusting her footing, Alexis bore down on her hold all the more, the blonde as unrelenting as she was precise in the application of pressure.
“Tap or snap,” she growled down at Amaya, twisting, turning and rotating her opponents ensnared stem. “Tap.. Or. Snap!”
“You wouldn’t!” Murakami hissed threw clenched teeth, seething and crippled in almost every way, shaking her head in denial.
“You think?” Atlantic braced herself, tone low and level in warning. “I’m a Marine,” she reminded, applying just a little more, devastating torque for effect.
“I’ve done far worse.”
Amaya slapped her palm against the mat furiously, signalling to the Official and everyone watching that she submitted, the man in black and white calling for the bell to confirm as the crowd popped.
Alexis, for just a moment, considered not letting go before her better nature won out and dropped her adversaries tortured limb, leaving her to roll away unmolested to lick to her wounds and fight another day.
Now left to her own devices, and with her theme music erupting from the loud speakers, Atlantic beat her right fist against her chest and shouted….
“STAND UP!!”
….and her most loyal followers, of which there were many cried back…
“RECOGNISE!!”
…to which replied with her arms spread open wide…
“Damn right.”
[/U]ANNABELLE DARK VS. ALEJANDRA FERNANDEZ[/U][/B]
ANNABELLE DARK
ALEJANDRA FERNANDEZ
…For Annabelle Dark, the learning curve of the Big Leagues, as the petitely packaged Brit was quickly coming to realise, was less of a hill and more like a great big f*cking cliff face!
As weary as she could be, the Midnight Maiden put up little protest as she was muscled up to sitting on the top turnbuckle, chin tucked meekly towards her chest as her sleek physique glistened with a sheen of perspiration. She did manage to place her right palm on Alejandra’s rigid shoulder as her opponent for the evening began climbing the ropes in front of her, but there appeared to be little intent behind the gesture.
The Prototype, on the other hand, looked as though she could still go another ten rounds, clearly fired up from her loss on Wednesday, Fernandez taking out her cold fury on the youngest of the Darks. Grabbing a firm hold of the smaller young woman’s navy singlet about her hips, she also prepared to forcibly yank her head forwards into a Front Headlock…
…Only for Annabelle to shockingly lean forwards, catching damn near everyone in the arena off guard, and planted her lips deep against the Mexican Maulers. It was as passionate as any kiss had been, the Princess of New Storms holding nothing back until Fernandez, who had not flinched from the unexpected invasion, returned it ten-fold, bearing down on the lip lock as if it were a match all of its own.
Annabelle gave as good as she got but, all too soon, her offensive began crumbling, her pert chest hiking and moans becoming audible to those sitting in the front rows. Conceding ground, Dark leant her head back slowly, the Malevolent Machine now leaning over the Lightning Reaper until finally, with both needing air, they broke apart.
The Midnight Maiden, even more flustered than before, gasped and trembled just a little, her pale complexion becoming rosy as Alejandra scowled down on her grimly. Annabelle tipped her chin back, a final surrender and Alejandra…
…found a thumb JABBED into her eye for her troubles!!
She howled, the Prototype clutching her blinded peeper as she stumbled down from the turnbuckles and stumbled away, cursing with many a low growl as the FAWNatics, watching on, were divided in their collective response. Some cheered, others didn’t, and the rest were still dumbfounded by the snogging match that they had just witnessed.
Annabelle, now sitting pretty and more than a little smug with herself, shrugged to those in the audience who cried foul and, without a hint of remorse, waited for just the right moment…
…which she spotted as soon as Fernandez turned her back on her.
Marshalling what remained of her reserves, the Lightning Reaper took flight, leaping from her perch and taking to the air. She landed square and true across Alejandra’s back, clinging to her like a spider monkey and, with nary a moment’s hesitation, wrapped her athletic legs about her opponent’s rock-solid midriff and began to squeeeeeeze, ripping a great gasp of escaping air from her opponent.
It was a gasp, however, that was cut short as, in conjunction with the Body Scissors, Annabelle wrapped her right arm about the Mexican’s neck and locked in TIGHT a stiff sleeper, her opponent stiffening and swaying as the Brit conspired to tighten her duality of constrictions even further.
“That was uncalled for, I know,” Dark cooed an apology into Alejandra’s ear as she clung as closely as she could. “How about we say you throw in the towel now,” she continued after her not exactly sincere apology, “and I promise to make it up to you. I bet you love butt stu…”
She didn’t get to finish her offer, not as Fernandez, with a low and heavy growl, immediately back peddled in reverse, almost literally running blind and still managing to SLAM her unwanted passenger spine first into the turnbuckles!!
Dark released a heavy GRUNT as she was violently compressed between her opponents far more powerful body and the barely yielding pads, but she did not let go.
Alejandra, however, had the bit between her teeth, even as Annabelle tightened her gams about her hips, constricting and grinding them for all it was worth. Instead, she stumbled forwards and, bracing herself, she THREW herself backwards a second time.
Again, Dark grunted, rocked from head to toe and, this time, her grip did slacken.
Fernandez, smelling blood in the water, repeated the collision for a third time, and Annabelle could hold on no longer, gutted, breathless and the last of her stamina abandoning her, she let go and slumped against the pads.
She would have stayed there as well had Fernandez not possessed other ideas, the Malevolent Machine grabbing hold of her opponent’s now slack arms and dragged her up and over until the young Brit lay slumped, trim tummy first, over her right shoulder. Palming both the back of the brunette’s neck and her hips to hold her cargo steady, Alejandra inhaled a deep breath and charged forwards. Upon reaching the middle of the ring, she slung the limp limbed Annabelle forwards and SLAMMED her into the deck with one of the most brutal Running Powerslams in wrestling!!
GRINGA KILLER: @0:20
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mnFRqS6fWk
Ring rattling, Annabelle splayed out in a depleted, quivering heap, one knee pointed heavenwards whilst the rest of her limbs twitched with the barest signs of life.
Alejandra was on her immediately, hooking that inviting leg and pinning the sleeker grappler to the canvas, the Official joining them to count…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
…bringing the match to an end and confirming Fernandez’s victory.
Rising to her feet quickly, she grabbed Annabelle by her hair and bullied the Midnight Maiden up onto her knees, the smaller brunette barely even conscious and gazing down the hard camera with a blank expression. Fernandez, on the other hand, with the softly groaning spoils of victory clutched in her right fist, glared daggers towards all those who would be watching back stage, a handful in particular.
They year had only just begun, but she was only getting started…
ALISON ATLANTIC VS. ANGELICA KAISER
ALISON ATLANTIC
ANGELICA KAISER
…Breathless, Alison chided herself inwardly for her seeming inability to match the simply overwhelming power possessed by Angelica Kaiser, not even at the second time of asking. A good three inches shorter than the Austrian, the Lean Marine was popped up onto her tip toes as the Crimson Goddess methodically sought to squeeze the very last of the life out of her by way of Bearhug, the smaller blonde’s palms pressed impotently against her adversaries’ shoulders.
Angelica flexed and Alison groaned, still valiantly struggling for release yet finding little remaining strength to still do so. Kaiser tightened her coils again, jostling the flag attired beauty, ever so slowly grinding her into submission in the middle of the ring, right where the duo of athletes had first locked horns tonight.
“The Patriot Princess?” Kaiser questioned with an air of wry amusement, squeezing, constricting and slowly rolling her arms up and down the Babe of Battle’s spine in turn, working her over with ever greater force. “Still, I am not impressed.”
“Impressed?” Alison managed to push out from between her lips, stiffening her posture for what was surely to be one last effort, furrowing her brow in proud indignation. With a flare up of intense dander of the Babyface variety, she struggled to inhale a deep breath and, steeling her resolve, she then voluntarily popped her athletic stems clean up off the canvas, wrapping those long legs about a surprised Angelica’s hips.
“I’ll give you a reason to be impressed!”
“An unexpected strategy,” Kaiser grinned, an expression that would be charming had the Crimson Goddess not proven to be so cold blooded. “Not unwelcome,” she purred, compressing Atlantic even tighter up against her, her pelvis thrust up between Alison’s voluntarily open thighs. “But fruitl…”
Amusement traded places with shock on the Austrian’s expression as, with her own features the picture of determination, Atlantic SNAPPED her encircling stems shut with sudden and severe pressure, firm thighs flexing with unexpected power as she fought to counteract her adversaries Bearhug with a Body Scissors of their own!!
Both young women gasped and constricted, soon as tightly pressed up against one another as they could possibly be, chins perched on each other’s shoulders as they grimaced and groaned. Both flexed, both squeezed, both fought for dominance as their warm, nubile young bodies writhed with terse, determined spasms, the temperature in the arena rising.
Neither Athlete were willing to let go, and no-one could look away, the Gladiatrix Photographers on hand to ensure the moment was captured for prosperity.
It was, however, perhaps inevitable that Alison would be the first to slacken, already on the back foot before the joust had begun. For all her fierce pride added fuel to her fire, her grunts were the first to become moans, her palms finally slipping free from Kaiser’s rigid shoulders to sway idly by her thighs.
Feeling the end was near, an emboldened (and a little relieved) Angelica doubled down on her own embrace and, with the immediate, colossal increase in pressure about her midriff, Atlantic’s head rolled dejectedly backwards on her slumped shoulders, a long, mournful groooooooan slipping free from her torso.
With one final, sharp jostle, Alison’s hips popped back open and her long legs, drained of all stamina, slipped back down until her toes tapped the canvas.
Angelica let her go, but only long enough to spin the pliant Patriot Princess one eighty on the spot and reapplying her embrace, this time a Bearhug of the Belly to Back variety.
Atlantic stiffened for a second before again falling slack, dangling in her opponent’s stronger arms and swaying gently from left to right, her spirit from the night having finally left her.
The Official, having seen enough, moved in to check of the sleeker blonde’s well-being, slowly lifting the flaccid arm of the Lean Marine before letting it drop…
ONCE!
TWICE!!
THRICE!!!
…and called for the bell, confirming Angelica’s victory by knockout.
Kaiser, revelling in her superiority, didn’t let her go, continuing to squeeze the Babe of Battle who offered nothing in response, her head lolled to one side and her expression blank. Angelica found the hard camera, ensuring that they were both facing it and, with a wry smile, she addressed one person in particular.
“Summer,” she purred, jostling the flaccid frame of her opponent for the night. “Oh Summer Hopkins,” she squeezed her already capitulated foe one final time, summoning the desired, deflated moan to emerge out from her body, a message, both visual and audible, for the EuroAsia Champion.
“I’ll be seeing you.”